When Both Sides Meet
by fataliste
Summary: [gen; implied MitKo (sorta)] A conversation between Kogure and Tetsuo who meet on the streets. Takes place several months after the gym incident.


Disclaimer: Slam Dunk & its characters © Inoue Takehiko

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**When Both Sides Meet**  
_a Slam Dunk fanfiction_

He would not have noticed the other if not for the arm that stuck out and blocked his path.

Warily, Kogure stopped, looked up and barely held back the urge to swing at the face smirking down at him. Instead, managing a civil nod, he tried sidestepping the body that had now followed the arm and was blocking his way.

"Not even a 'good evening', Kogure?" The amusement, and the cigarette smoke that was exhaled in his direction made the boy bristle in annoyance, inbred good manners and Anzai-sensei's warning not to get into any more trouble or face suspension holding him back from reacting in a more violent manner.

Instead, he obliged with a terse, "After the last time, Tetsuo-_san_? NO." before circling around the other, face twisted into a grim countenance and one hand viciously squeezing the strap of his book bag in an imitation of what he wanted to do to the face still looking at him.

He had not gone more than a few steps though, when the other's next words stopped him in his tracks. "How's the sportsman?"

There was a hint of gruff affection in Tetsuo's voice that made him turn around, albeit reluctantly. "Haven't you seen him?"

"No. Not for a long time, anyway."

"He's fine."

"That's good to hear. That boy, he can be real impatient sometimes, especially with himself. Look out for him will you, Kogure?"

"I try." The wry almost-smile on his face did not go unnoticed.

Tetsuo laughed then, a hoarse burst of chuckles that shook his tall solid frame, the glow from the cigarette he now held in his hand bobbing along with his laughter. "Yeah well, you're probably the only one with any chance of succeeding."

"I don't-" Kogure took a cautious step closer as he began to reply.

"Ah... I suppose it's just part of your nature eh," the gangster continued without waiting for Kogure to finish his sentence, flicking away the ashes from his cigarette as his other hand suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of Kogure's chin before the Shohoku student could blink or step away, dragging him closer.

"What-" Kogure bit out with some difficulty, stiffening and automatically trying to pull away from the firm but not cruel grip the fingers had on his lower jaw.

"Relax." With another chuckle, the other bent low, peered at the outraged but fearless eyes that glared back at him before grinning in obvious satisfaction. "You'll do fine."

With that, he let go, Kogure automatically grabbing hold of the thick wrist and stopping the other, breathing now a little faster as he spat out, eyes flashing dangerously, "What was _that_ for?"

"You haven't figured it out yet, Kogure?" Effortlessly, Tetsuo pried off the determined fingers gripping his wrist, the amused smirk on his face rankling. "Guess I gave you more credit than you have. Then again, I think you'll figure it out sooner or later. You're a smart boy eh? Smarter than my sportsman anyway." Tapping the side of Kogure's head with one finger, he laughed again, slanting a sly look at the other that indicated he knew something he wasn't going to divulge any time soon.

"Well, I figured out that you're an asshole," Kogure replied calmly, a smile on his face that did not quite reach his eyes, carefully hiding his confusion behind the gangster's words.

"Doesn't everyone?" Tetsuo stuck the cigarette back between his lips, flashed a wide smile showing teeth. "That's my role, something that good boys don't understand. And sportsmen can never quite slip into completely."

"You'll be surprised, Tetsuo-san, how much _good_ boys understand." Kogure countered, flashing a similar smile of his own.

He expected anything other than the fleeting expression of surprise on Tetsuo's face at his audacity, and the head thrown back in uninhibited laughter, long strands of dark hair dancing in the evening breeze. "Maybe I am eh? Have a good evening." Clearly dismissing the other, the gangster walked off without another word, one hand lifted in farewell.

Not bothering to reply, Kogure stalked off in the opposite direction, impatience and anger apparent in the rigid set of his shoulders.

He did not see the other stop suddenly and turn, studying his back profile as a cigarette was grounded beneath the heel of a boot.

Neither did he hear the words murmured in a rough yet indulgent voice, "Take good care of my sportsman, Kogure Kiminobu."

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End file.
